


quagmire

by cancerouscactus



Series: Modern AUs [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU- No Game, Angst, Gen, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 11:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14519463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cancerouscactus/pseuds/cancerouscactus
Summary: Dirk is a sinkhole, a quagmire, he sucks the life out of everyone around him, whether he wishes to or not.





	quagmire

**Author's Note:**

> the only way to write dirk is to self project and only god can convince me otherwise

_There’s no one like you!_ The words are painted around every corner up the staircase, variants of the same Hallmark bullshit they tell kids to keep them from offing themselves. It’s a nice thought, in theory, that you have something that no one else can offer, but Dirk doesn’t buy into the kind of nonsense that comes with thinking that you’re some kind of special snowflake. There’s a million people on this earth like him, a million other people like him born with half a personality, caught between loud raging emotions that buzz in his skull and the dull, empty space that follows a mental breakdown. Rose is right when he says this is the reason he doesn’t have any friends, not _real_ friends anyway. Just people he sucks the life out of slowly, demanding they pay attention to him and his problems and never asking how they’re doing.  

And that’s why he hides, he guesses, too afraid to ask people to be his friend, in fear that they’ll realize that he’s just another parasite, looking to suck the life out of them by demanding they take a shot at fixing him. _Look at me!_ He’ll say, _look how much I’m hurting, will you come kiss it better?_ It’s attention he doesn’t deserve, not by a long shot, but that’s okay because there’s no one like him right?

Dirk is forever caught in his own cycle of self-flagellating bullshit and he knows for a fact that the one person who wants to ditch his ass the most is his own self. Ironic how the only person supposedly like him, he himself, wants to leave after spending about five minutes pondering his own thoughts.

It’s easy to push people around when all you think about is how much of a shitbag you are. It’s easy to call Rose for help, never ask how she’s doing, never bother to wonder if she’s doing alright and just send a conglomeration of texts messages trying but never managing to fully describe the amount of self-loathing that has been a constant presence in his life since he became sentient.

He never feels more human in times like these though, when he sees the dull, unknowing eyes of strangers on him. They don’t know what he’s done, what he continues to do, and it’s a balm to his aching soul. He’s disgusting, but they don’t know that. 

His phone buzzes in his sweater pocket, and Dirk idly looks at the caller before shoving it back in his pocket. He really can’t be bothered to talk to anyone, not like this. And that’s the joke, the punchline, the fact that he can’t be bothered to pick up a phone call but fully expects people to answer _his_ calls.

 _Smile,_ the sign at the top of the roof reads, _you’re on camera!_

 _Good,_ he thinks viciously, _I deserve to be the next video on some gore kink site._

He sticks one foot out and over the railing, straddling it like it’s some kind of bull ride at the Houston Rodeo. It feels good, the wind in his hair and the buzzing in his ears. He bends at the waist, forehead touching the green railing and breathes in deep the smell of cold metal and the stress relief lotion on his hands that Dave bought him.

It would be startlingly easy to end it all here, it would be. It would be-

It would be so fucking easy- 

And just this once, Dirk wants it easy, doesn’t want to have to fight anymore.

He slides off, for a brief second, he touches nothing, so close to the edge, so fucking close-

And his foot touches the roof of the school and he breathes, this time fast and he whines softly, feeling tears sting and stream down his cheeks and curls up on the roof, the wind caressing his wet cheeks and he sobs, snot dripping down his nose and on to the hard concrete.

He can’t do it.

**Author's Note:**

> for the record, if you ever feel like commiting suicide TALK TO SOMEONE i promise you that you aren’t a parasite or a bad friend if you wanna talk about yourself and your problems.


End file.
